The Tweed and Grey Jumper
by OswinSmith
Summary: "Doctor who?" Human AU, Clara works at a local café and is determined to find out the Doctor's name, no matter what she has to do. And the Doctor is determined to keep her guessing, and maybe keep her around as well... T to be safe
1. Chapter 1

READ- SLIGHTLY MODERATLEY IMPORTANT  
Hey guys! I got mostly scenario 2, but also people asking if I could do both. Hmmm... Well the answer is maybe! I want to see where this chapter heads and see if I can incorporate a little of both. I'm sorry if I don't fulfill what you had in mind, but then again, I probably won't fulfill what's in my own mind. Thank you to **_Ittam the Great _**for her exceptional review. They worded it better than I did sadly, and got my reference! BLESS YOUR SOUL. BLESS-IT. Oh and if you get the time, check out CrazyBowtieGirl she's exceptional and I love her latest fic. Sorry, I just love the sweetie.  
_

The Doctor was at his booth as always, sipping his tea with eleven sugars and three dashes of milk, and no- he did not find that weird at all. No one talked to him, nor bothered him; he was just the man with the bowtie and big chin and dirty round glasses that she assumed stayed that way as he had a full mind and not a bother to care. She often found him glancing her way before turning back to his paper, but to be fair, she has been staring at the man ever since he walked in the little store. He was handsome, his chin adding to his strange attractiveness. She watched as he raised the brim of the mug to his lips for the fourth time, _not that she was counting or anything_, she felt compelled to figure this man out. Clara shook her head and turned back to the muffin tray in front of her, fixing the display so it was _chocolate, banana, blueberry, coffee_, and repeat.  
She hummed in approval of her handiwork and wiped her hands on her half apron, just in time for Martha to come out and tell her to rearrange the muffins. _Bloody hell_.

Half an hour passed until the clock hit nine, and the waft of morning customers flooded the café as usual. Donna took her place at the counter and asked her to tend to the dishes, which resulted in a long groan from Clara and a chuckle from Donna.  
"Must I Donna? I already work the morning shifts, and the afternoon, and the night-"  
"Yah yah, you work a lot. And that's the point, you _work _not lounge. Now off with you, I can hear the dishes crying again."  
Clara raised an eyebrow at the curvy red head in front of her "Crying?"  
"Yes, and their saying- _Clean us Clara, clean us! We are so dirty, almost as dirty as Ros_e when she's drunk"  
Donna and Clara stared at each other for a moment, then burst out in a fit of laughs at the memory of Rose last night at the moving party last night.

**_"Come on! One more drink, after moving all those bloody boxes you'll need it."  
Donna quirked an eyebrow at the flustered Clara whom still had to unpack all the boxes in her new apartment. The group of girls had gone down to the little bar across the street from her new home and downed a cocktail each. She was in no mood to get drunk, with all the stress of moving and all. But really, maybe it was just what she needed, so she rolled her eyes and lifted a shot to her upturned lips._**

After a good twenty minutes they were all successfully drunk, well Rose was a bit more than that, having slipped an extra two shots in.  
"Oh my god, look at him. He has such a nice..." Rose gestured to the guy across the room, wearing a suit and trench coat and bent down to pick up a pen looking object "Ass."  
"Rose!" Clara giggled like a school girl at how upfront she was, Donna dropping her jaw comically and gasping.  
"What? Can't a girl look?" She knew all too well that she was drunk and obviously checking the strangers bum out, but Rose really couldn't give a care. "I would take a slice of that boy any day."  
Donna and Clara fell over in a fit of laughs "Oh- my- god!" They squealed between laughs.  
"I'm going over there, see you ladies later." And with that, Rose left with a wink and sashayed over to the man. The pair of girls watched as she left with her lips connected to the man's, and fell to the floor in a fit of loud laughter and tears in their eyes.

The girls had just started to fade their laughter when Rose walked disheveled into the café, wearing the same outfit as the night before except adding a baggy dress shirt (a man's obviously) tucked into the black skirt.

Donna and Clara burst into harder laughter, racking their bodies with terrible squeals.  
"Guyyss!" Rose stomped her foot at the pair of them, obviously annoyed with the new attention as the café residents turned to look at the ruckus.

The Doctor peered over his paper to see the small pretty brunette pick herself up from the ground and dust herself off, swiping off any traces of dirt from her small lacey blue dress and white waist apron. The dark blue dress showed her legs nicely, the Doctor noted as she ensued cleaning the counter after teasing the ragged girl, and left the Doctor wondering how she could look good in everything she wore- ever. He often watched the perky waitress, only talking to her once in his time in the store. But that one time had seen to won him over, as he couldn't take his eyes off her since. He came to the café every morning and gazed at the girl with the cute nose and determined attitude, but never talked to her, not since their first conversation.

**_"And what may I help you with, sir?"  
The Doctor looked up to a beautiful brown haired girl, in her mid-twenties, and wearing a baggy grey jumper. She wasn't wearing an apron like she usually was; well she didn't usually work the register either. He found that it oddly suited her, just a sweater and jean shorts and messy bun. She looked casual and real and absolutely… Delectable. The Doctor realized he hadn't answered yet and shook himself out of his daze. "Uh yes, could I get a tea with eleven sugar and three dashes of cream-" the girl raised an eyebrow at him, smiling a smidge behind the counter.  
"What?" he rocked on his feet, anxious from their first meeting.  
"Eleven? If you're tired there's coffee, chap."  
"I'm not tired though."_**

"It's not weird; it's just my preference of drink." He sighed, most baristas questioned his tastes.  
"And what's wrong with weird? Still talking to you isn't I, Mr. Fancy tweed jacket and bowtie?" She winked up at him "That all?"  
He smirked slightly at her cheek, enjoying the moment more and more "Maybe a soufflé, heard they were good here."  
She seemed to brighten at that, her eyes lighting up with his words. "Well I would hope you heard so, as I make them."  
"You do?"  
She nodded giddily, obviously happy with the compliment and brought a small dish of brown desert from the display beside her. "The tea will be ready in just a mo', can I get your name?" the girl held the sharpie expectantly above a pad of paper, gazing at him from below her long lashes.  
"The Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor."  
She huffed and placed her hands on her waist "Well I can't except that, now can I? That's no proper name."  
He shrugged and placed the correct amount of change on the counter as he already knew the amount and left her to go back to his booth with his soufflé. He really didn't want to leave, as he was enjoying her inquiries on his name. He never really liked when people asked who, but the words rested perfectly in his head when they came from her lips. But he knew she had a job to go to, and didn't feel like holding her from that, no matter how badly he wanted to.  
He sat there for another two minutes, snacking on the very exceptional desert, when the pretty girl came over, placing a mug down on the table with his receipt underneath. The slip of paper caught his eye, it usually read 'The Doctor' as always, but this time the little eggshell square had an adorably written 'chin boy' and heart, and he grinned down at it, not knowing how much that little heart took hold of his.

He finished his cup of tea and continued on his half eaten soufflé, which he had bought every day since then. He secretly hoped she would serve him again, but she seemed quite devoted to baking and rearranging the store instead of serving strangers, which he understood but still kind of hoped that she would.  
His receipt said 'Doctor' and was bare of any quickly drawn hearts, and his soufflé was almost gone. He leaned back in to the chair and continued his paper, losing himself in the '_Amy's advice column_' as he usually did. In fact, he was so lost in it he didn't even notice pretty brown haired and blue dress wearing Clara pick up his mug and bowl and leaving a little note behind.

Clara took off her apron and hung it on the little knob in the kitchen, making sure she didn't get any flour on her dress. She was a bit jumpy though, she had finally built up the courage to leave the Doctor a note, and she wasn't sure if he had read it yet. _I hope he doesn't, he'll probably laugh at me. Why would he even read it? He'll just throw it out! God, I'm an idiot. _She was supposed to be signing out of her shift and waiting until noon for her next one, as Donna had taken the shift between them, but she stood at the corner of the door and peaked around the edge of the door into the shop. Her heart fluttered as her eyes lay onto the Doctor, him grinning and holding the little note between his forefinger and thumb. She quickly dashed out before he could see her with a shy smile and a wibbly wobbly heart.

The Doctor finished the article and went to place it in his jacket when a little slip of paper caught his eye. Setting his paper on the table and picking up the note.

**"Enjoy the soufflé, bowtie boy? Put a little extra chocolate this time, just for you. I hope your appetite is as big as your chin; I'm making chocolate-banana and hazelnut tomorrow. You'll like the banana one; they're a great source of potassium."  
-Clara O."  
**And beside her cute scrawl was a heart, perfectly drawn. The Doctor could feel his face stretching as a humongous grin spread across it, and he couldn't wait for tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

'Ello darlings! I'm flabbergasted by the reaction to the first chapter, really I didn't expect that, bless your souls. And a quick little update before I fan girl but you'll have to wait- this story won't be very good, so I hope you guys aren't disappointed by it. I hope to update quickly but I'm a very slow writer and even a small passage takes an hour or two. Okay so I'm probably going to cry when I tell you this because it weirdly means A LOT TO ME but I don't know man I don't know, **Lifewithdaleks** reviewed mY STORY. SHE'S MY FAVOURITE AUTHOR ON THIS SITE AND ZSDRXCTFBGUHINJKML. Sorry. AND THIS CHAPTER IS A LITTLE SHORT I KNOW BARE WITH ME OKAY- Reviews are appreciated!

**"Enjoy the soufflé, bowtie boy? Put a little extra chocolate this time, just for you. I hope your appetite is as big as your chin; I'm making chocolate-banana and hazelnut tomorrow. You'll like the banana one; they're a great source of potassium."  
-Clara O."  
**And beside her cute scrawl was a heart, perfectly drawn and perfectly enticing. The Doctor could feel his face stretching as a humongous grin spread across it, and he knew he couldn't wait for tomorrow.

_

Clara lugged herself from her apartment, her night shift just about to start. It was only from eight to eleven, but it felt like a millennium to her. Her home wasn't far from the café, which she enjoyed, as walks weren't as bad and taxi's weren't required as they were before. But it was also the biggest pain _ever_. There were no more fake illnesses (Martha could check on her at anytime) or letting her eyes rest in the back of a cab, and even more aching feet opportunities. It was a compromising situation all around, really. Ignoring all that, she continued down the slowly ebbing path in front of her, kicking at little rocks and litter for what entertainment she could suck out of it. She had dressed comfortably tonight, as she usually did on the later nights. A simple white tee tucked in a black school girl skirt, it may not sound comfortable but skirts are like wings for legs, their so free. She decided to ignore the fact that that actually properly happened in her head and finally walked in to the shop.  
It was empty as it usually was in the night time, only few quiet folk reminiscing with their coffee and occupations. Clara sighed and tied the waist apron swiftly to her lower body, swiping her time card in and getting to the dishes. She was the only one here other than Martha, who was upstairs in her little apartment probably going over today's numbers. She felt mildly bad for her, running a café since she was little with no choice of any other career, she often talked about being a doctor if her parents hadn't given her the shop. But she had her husband Mickey, who lived up there in that tiny little apartment on the tiny little shop with what tiny little things they had, and they looked so happy. She was jealous of that- that happiness. She had never dated as a teen and such, and had only gone on three dates in her life. The first one with a girl Nina, blame her for not knowing her sexuality, she had never even kissed anyone before! The other two were blind dates, her friends always thinking she needed someone in her life. She was honestly content with not being in a relationship, no one really gave her that feeling, and even though she sometime craved that kind of bond with someone, she knew what was best for her. But she has had her first kiss of course, in fourth grade, poor little Thomas never saw her coming. And it's not like that was the only time, often when she got too drunk she would end up in some strangers arms with their lips all over her and half her clothes off. But she had never gone the whole way, which at her age was just pitiful; she always picked up her shirt and ran out, to never see the man again. So super mega virgin Clara was conflicted between okay and not, wondering if she was just going to wither away alone with her soufflés and coffee mugs in this little store. Once she left home she had gotten a job here and moved in with a family friend to babysit his kids, she planned on a life of adventure afterwards, which never came obviously. Here she was in a lonely little house and job that hadn't changed for the three years she had had it. Twenty two and nowhere to go was Clara Oswin Oswald in a nut shell.

A slightly abashed group of teens, drunk as hell and wearing beanies, barged through the doors, stirring the café residents in to discomfort. Clara stared as the jumble of drunken limbs knocked over chairs and decorations, some taking a booth and making out (most) and a good number tossing the little shop ornaments between each other in a game of catch. The original number of guests left their seat and tried to maneuver their way out of the store, one or two succeeding. A lady in a peplum top and pencil skirt was captured in the middle of some mosh pit that swayed her around like a toy spinner.  
Clara rushed over and pried her from their grasp and shoved any teens she could to the exit, successfully getting none to leave. So here she was, all alone against a good twenty drunken teens.  
"Stop! Put that down! Leave, all of you!" she raised her voice as best as she could, and let it get lost in the racket they were making. She sighed and bent onto her knees behind the little counter, clutching her head. A teacup was thrown over the booth and landed shattered around her. The glass cut her wrists and thigh and left a terrible burning behind. Clara whimpered and scrambled to the kitchen, as far as she could get away from them. Martha or Mickey hadn't come down, which really shocked her, as they came barreling down the steps when she even broke a plate.

She heard the café door open again, barely through all the noise, and whoever entered was not putting up with what was going on. After a few shouts, he had tossed each of the teens out by hand (she assumed it was a man by their deep voice) violence obviously not being an issue for them to ensue. After a horrid six minutes she heard the stranger curse and starts to pick up the scraps of glass, alone. Clara rose shakily on to her feet and crept to the mess slowly. She gasped quietly at _him_ on his hands and knees, bruised up and cleaning no matter his injuries. "Oh my god, Doctor!" Clara rushed over to him, the Doctor's head lifting swiftly to her frantic petite frame bending next to him.

"Oh no, you're hurt, poor thing." Clara placed her hands on his face, turning it to each side to inspect his face, his body warming incredibly at her soft touch. "Why the _hell _would you do that!? They could have killed you! Oh my stars, okay come one," She tugged at his arm in an attempt to pull him up "You've got to lie down." Clara helped him to his booth, which he weirdly enjoyed being in, and made him lay on the soft leather couch, its cold material soothing his tight muscles. "Wait here," Clara ran out of the room and into the little door at the back, jumping around heaps of glass. He sighed and pulled himself up and rested his back on the wall connected to the booth chairs. His lanky figure took up the whole seat, so when Clara came back with a first aid kit, she had to kneel next to him where the table usually was (as it was knocked down, _very much_ to the Doctor's disliking). She unhooked the white box and found a cotton round and disinfectant, pouring a small amount on to the white pad. Clara wordlessly lifted his arms and wiped away any blood. After most of his cuts were bandaged and clean, she moved up to his face. Clara looked unsurely up at him, not knowing if it was fine to touch him. After a moment she settled one hand in his hair below his left ear and he shuddered at her touch, his whole body tingling. "You've got a few bruises on your knuckles," she whispered as she wept the blood away from the corner of his mouth with her thumb "along with some cuts that will fade. And a split lip, I-I'm so sorry Doctor. You didn't have to do that, any of that." He smiled down at her troubled face, brushing her cheek with the palm of his hand. "Better me than you." She sniffled and looked away, taking the wipe and tending to her hands and leg. He saw her cuts and took the wipe away, wrapping a finger around her small wrist and lifting it up to his gaze, then slowly moved out of the chair. "Lay down,"  
"No, you're the hurt one-"  
"I'm the Doctor, Clara; let me be Doctor-y." he snickered at his joke and lifted Clara swiftly onto the chair, ignoring her whines. Clara warmed up to the situation quickly though, well once the Doctor had weaved his fingers in hers. She knew it was just to get a better angle to clean her with but she liked letting herself imagine otherwise. "Hmm, only a mo' and you've already got me on my back? Down boy." She grinned cheekily at him, watching him fumble slightly and redden. "Shut up."  
"Just flirting to keep you cheerful."  
He smirked at her, a glint of happiness in his eyes, "I was going to see you tomorrow morning, if you wanted to see me sooner you should have called. Ruining such a pretty store is such a bad excuse."  
She scoffed "I did **not**." and then mumbled something of not minding it though, leaving a bigger grin on his face.  
The Doctor grimaced as a strike of pain hit his back and looked up to Clara through his eyelashes.  
"Anytime you want to start flirting again, its fine by me."  
She giggled quietly and went to prop herself up when she felt his hand brush her thigh, making her suck in a breath of shock and a mix of pleasure, a waft of heat traveling up into her stomach.  
"You're hurt Clara."  
She looked down to see his worried face, staring at something just above the hem of her skirt. "Just a few scratches though."  
"No no Clara, you're really actually properly hurt." She began to get worried now, she hadn't felt anything earlier, and then again her heart was thumping so hard in her chest she could barely see what was in front of her. The Doctor's fingers ghosted up her leg, glaring at it as if he could scare whatever was there off. "Doctor, you're scaring me."  
He instantly looked up at her, fear sifting through his eyes and he placed his hand on her cheek, the best apology he could give at the moment. "You've hurt your leg pretty badly, well really badly but optimism is key in situations like this. Now we have to get you to a hospital or something of the sorts." At his words the burning pain finally hit her, tears welling in her eyes and a gasp of pain leaving her lips.

The Doctor felt helpless, the girl he had only briefly talked to was hurt, and it was almost as painful to watch as it was to endure, he imagined. It was pretty gruesome, definitely in need of stitches' of some sort. He really hoped the next time he would see Clara again it would be under much better circumstances, not like this, this wasn't even close to what he imagined. He had to do something though, sitting here a reminiscing of how he could've asked her out to lunch was not helping at all. The Doctor scooped Clara into his arms, one hand grasped firmly around her upper back and another under her knees. He stood and carried her out of the store and into his long dark blue car, resting her nicely in the passenger seat and buckling her in. "You don't have to-"  
"Shush up."  
_


	3. Chapter 3

ehehehehhehhhhhhhhhhhhh i haven't uploaded in awhile... well shi- anyways, thank you all so much for your support! I don't think this chapter will be long, but i haven't written it yet so i don't know man i don't know. I just don't know.  
_  
Future Hannah comin atcha'- I HAD NOT REALIZED THE AMOUNT OF CURSE WORDS I WOULD BE USING EXCUSEEEEEE MEEEEEE I AM JUST TO RADICAL FOR NORMAL ACTS OF FRUSTRATION. OKAY SORRY I'M SO CHILL.  
__

She had the Doctor in stitches, he was completely smitten with Clara Oswald, the one time barrister and full time flirt. But the Doctor, quite literally, had put Clara in stitches. She was sitting next to him in the dimly lit car, giggling senselessly and poking at the patch on her thigh.  
"Stop that." He swatted her hand away from her sewn leg.  
"No. This is _my _leg, that means i'm the queen of my leg. And the queen wants to touch her leg." She was hysterical, really, after being put under the 'laughing gas'. He had to stop himself a few times from laughing at her, but all in all, he was just worried about her. The clinic had given him a dozen or so painkillers to use over the course of the next three weeks, which he really hoped she wouldn't have to use. The Doctor couldn't help but beat himself up over all of it, if he had only come sooner Clara would be able to make those chocolate banana souffles he was looking forward to, oh so very much. He had really just been looking forward to being able to be with Clara some more, which he got, but not really in the best way possible. And a souffle wouldn't hurt, they were actually properly good.  
"Doctor who?" Clara had stopped poking herself (she had gotten bored with her leg at some point and just went on poking every limb she saw, mostly the Doctor's) and was staring cheekily at him.  
"Doctor- no."  
"No is such a weird name. Did your parents hate you?"  
He chuckled quietly "I meant, no, i'm not telling you my name. I don't like it, its way too... boring."

"Well I don't think your boring, and I don't suppose your name is going to change that."

He hated the fact that she had a valid point, because now she had taken every shovel he could use to dig himself out of this conversation.

"John."

"John- what?"

Clara huffed and crossed her arms on her chest "Really? Only the first name!?"  
He gave her a curt nod and started the car, pulling out of the small parking lot. They drove in silence for a bit, the Doctor driving and Clara pretending her hands were birds. Clara leaned over an started to fiddle with his radio, pushing a good amount of buttons until the CD he had put in this morning started to play, by a band called 'Snow Patrol'.  
Clara squealed and bounced in her seat "You listen to Snow Patrol!? Their one of my favorite bands!"  
The song 'What if The Storm Ends' played loudly as they flew down the quiet streets, Clara singing loudly with a hand held out of the window as he drove as fast as he could, and in that moment everything seemed okay.

Clara had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of 'Chasing Cars', and he tried his best to not make any noise. He really felt dumb, he had completely forgotten to ask her where she lived. He parked them next to his flat, which sounds a lot like he wanted to put them in a 'mature' situation, but in the end, there was no where else he could go with her. He walked around to her side of the dark blue vehicle and opened the passenger door for her, to see she was still asleep. He didn't know if he was expecting her not to be, but he was definitely flustered of what to do.  
"Claraa." he cooed, shaking her shoulder slightly.  
She rustled slightly in her sleep and fell into his chest.  
the Doctor huffed at the sudden impact and swept her into his arms before she could fall to the ground below them. "Oh. Um."  
He shifted, looking around for some answer of what to do. "I- i'm gonna- you just stay- oh my god."

He laid Clara down in his bed, a rather small two person bed that had only ever been used by the Doctor. He sometimes asks himself why he bought a two person bed... Well, anyways, he pulled the large black duvet across her petite frame and made sure she was nestled nicely into the bed before he turned to leave, and was snagged back almost immediately.  
"stay"

Her voice was so quiet he would have thought he had imagined it if she hadn't tugged at his wrist again. The Doctor was confused, and a little scared, but he wouldn't admit it. He hadn't slept in the same room with anyone that wasn't family other than Amy and Rory. He tried not to think of that though. "Shh, just sleep, okay?" He stroked her hair lightly and kissed her forehead. His stomach ached as he pressed his lips to her and his heart beat quickened, and he felt himself kneeling next to her, holding her hands in his and whispering a goodnight. He laid next to her with one of the pillows and blankets he kept underneath the bed, and he really couldn't care how cold it was on the hard wooden floor, because Clara's hands kept him warm all night long.

Clara rolled over on to her stomach and tried to lift her arms, whom were held down by a heavy object.  
"Huh?" Clara remembered little of last night, she knew the Doctor saved her, and her thigh... She opened her eyes too check her wound, just to be face to face with the Doctor. She gasped slightly at how close they were, and she quickly remembered everything that had happened. John, hmm. 'John's mouth was opened slightly, and the usual creases in his forehead were smooth. He was so calm, his adorable chin was tucked into her collar and arms wrapped securely around her waist. She realized that she was still wearing the dirty white tee and black school skirt as yesterday, her bun was probably a disaster, and there was most likely eye liner **everywhere.  
**Clara wriggled her waist to get out of the Doctor's grip and tried to unravel their legs without waking him. He moaned quietly and sent shudders through her spine, the rumble of his throat against her causing her to freeze. The Doctor's arms gripped her tighter and rolled them around so she was on his left side (unlike before, when she was mostly beneath him) and snuggled his nose in to her hair, breathing in then sighing. "Doctor!" She whispered, turning her head to him, which was a mistake on her part. His lips were now pressed against the flesh below her ear and her heart hammered against her chest as if it was going to jump out and run out the door. She prayed that he couldn't hear it beating, she would probably die from embarrassment. She decided he wasn't going to wake up any time soon and took to plucking her arms away from his body and wiping any thing around her eyes away. She quickly mended her hair out of the elastic and let it down across the pillow, unknowingly letting a piece land on the Doctor and tickle the tip of his nose.  
The Doctor felt something flicker across his face, annoying him in his dream like state. He didn't want to get up, his whole body was radiantly warm, and his arms held something small and soft, with his face pushed into a soft nice smelling pillow. As he laid there, the pillow felt less like a pillow more and more as time passed and more like a... person. JESUS CLARA! He sprung up from the bed, releasing a very shocked Clara from his arms. "I am SO so so so sorry Clara, i didn't even think I was- I'm sorry!"  
Clara giggled and sat up, looking under the blanket at her thigh. "Hmm, that's a pretty sight." She dropped the blanket and retreated from underneath it, fixing her skirt and checking the mirror across the room for any leftover makeup. The Doctor searched around for his jacket and bow-tie, now only in his shirt and pants.  
"You must have fallen off the bed." he muttered behind her, red from embarrassment, he couldn't even muster up enough courage to talk to her on a daily basis, not even merely close to enough to sleep with her (in a formal way, not perverted).  
Clara smirked at him and asked the time, her hands on her hips and eyebrow quirked at his blushed face.  
"Uh- yeah, um, it's around noon."  
Her face fell immediately "sHI-"  
"What, is something wrong? Does your leg hurt?" He frantically tore his dresser apart, searching for the pain killers he was given the night before until Clara placed a hand on his shoulder and reassured him that she was fine, and there was no pain. "I'm just **really **late for work, i already missed the morning shift."  
"But... You can't go to work. You're injured, Clara."  
She nodded and thanked him for everything ,wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him quickly before hurrying out the door of his flat. "No, wait up!" He raced after her, snagging her by the elbow before she reached the elevator. "Let me drive you, please?"

"Clara!" Martha came running out of the small cafe, Donna and most of the rest of the workers were in the window putting the shop together, and over to the blue car which she was trying to maneuver her leg safely out of. "What the _hell_ did you do last night! If you even bloody think you're gonna keep this job after this... **_Bullshit_**you're really fuc-" Martha was completely red with balled up fists and wrecked hair, she would have probably beaten her if the Doctor didn't step in.  
"Please, she was just working. A group of teens came in and well-" he gestured to the shop "..That. They did that, Clara had gotten hurt and I had to take her to the clinic for stitches. I promise she didn't do-"  
Martha smacked the Doctor.  
It was silent for a moment, until Martha sniffled and wiped her eyes, apologized to the both of them, and went sobbing in to Mickey's arms. The pair was silent for a moment, really just taking it all in.  
"I-" Clara started  
"Yeah..." Doctor answered, neither knowing nor realizing she hadn't said anything.


End file.
